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Best Famous Haiku Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Haiku poems. This is a select list of the best famous Haiku poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Haiku poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of haiku poems.

Search for the best famous Haiku poems, articles about Haiku poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Haiku poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See also: Best Member Poems

by Tanwir Phool | |

Haiku

Khail maiN haiN mashGhool
BachchoN ke dil ki dhaRkan
ChiRyaa , titli , phool

(Poet : Tanwir Phool)

English translation
-------------------------
They are busy in playing.
Children are very fond of Sparrow , butterfly and flower You may read more poetry (Ghazal) of Tanwir Phool at this link: http://www.
urdubandhan.
com/bazm/viewtopic.
php?f=2&t=7403


by Masaoka Shiki | |

Toward those short trees

Toward those short trees
We saw a hawk descending
On a day in spring


by Natsume Soseki | |

Over the wintry

Over the wintry
forest, winds howl in rage
with no leaves to blow.


More great poems below...

by Barry Tebb | |

MY PERFECT ROSE

 At ten she came to me, three years ago,

There was ‘something between us’ even then;

Watching her write like Eliot every day,

Turn prose into haiku in ten minutes flat,

Write a poem in Greek three weeks from learning the alphabet;

Then translate it as ‘Sun on a tomb, gold place, small sacred horse’.
I never got over having her in the room, though Every day she was impossible in a new way, Stamping her foot like a naughty Enid Blyton child, Shouting "Poets don’t do arithmetic!" Or drawing caricatures of me in her book.
Then there were the ‘moments of vision’, her eyes Dissolving the blank walls and made-up faces, Genius painfully going through her paces, The skull she drew, the withered chrysanthemum And scarlet rose, ‘Descensus averno’, like Virgil, I supposed.
Now three years later, in nylons and tight skirt, She returns from grammar school to make a chaos of my room; Plaiting a rose in her hair, I remember the words of her poem - ‘For love is wrong/in word, in deed/But you will be mine’ And now her promise to come the last two days of term, "But not tell them", the diamond bomb exploding In her eyes, the key left ‘Accidentally’ on my desk And the faint surprise.


by Barry Tebb | |

LETTER TO MICHAEL HOROVITZ

 It is time after thirty years

We had our Poetry Renaissance

Rise, Children of Albion, rise!

It is time after nightmares of sleep

When we walked the streets of inner cities

Our poems among the burnt-out houses

And cars, whispering compassion

To the addicts shaking and the homeless

Waking and those who have come apart

In the nowhere of today

Begging in stations

Sleeping in boxes.
It is time to find Our lost, those children I taught three decades ago To paint on ceilings With sticks of incense Rainbows of silence For John Cage To write on walls In luminous paint Pink haiku For Allen Ginsberg.
It is time to awaken and emblazon the sky With symphonies of sorrow, To draft the articles of war.
Poets of the Underground The doors have opened The ghost of Walt Whitman Grey-bearded, in lonely anguish Walks with us.


by Jack Kerouac | |

Haiku

 Birds singing
 in the dark
—Rainy dawn.


by Jack Kerouac | |

Haiku

 The low yellow
 moon above the
Quiet lamplit house


by Jack Kerouac | |

Haiku

 The taste
 of rain
—Why kneel?


by Billy Collins | |

Japan

 Today I pass the time reading
a favorite haiku,
saying the few words over and over.
It feels like eating the same small, perfect grape again and again.
I walk through the house reciting it and leave its letters falling through the air of every room.
I stand by the big silence of the piano and say it.
I say it in front of a painting of the sea.
I tap out its rhythm on an empty shelf.
I listen to myself saying it, then I say it without listening, then I hear it without saying it.
And when the dog looks up at me, I kneel down on the floor and whisper it into each of his long white ears.
It's the one about the one-ton temple bell with the moth sleeping on its surface, and every time I say it, I feel the excruciating pressure of the moth on the surface of the iron bell.
When I say it at the window, the bell is the world and I am the moth resting there.
When I say it at the mirror, I am the heavy bell and the moth is life with its papery wings.
And later, when I say it to you in the dark, you are the bell, and I am the tongue of the bell, ringing you, and the moth has flown from its line and moves like a hinge in the air above our bed.


by Paul Eluard | |

Five Haiku

 The wind 
Undecided 
Rolls a cigarette of air 

The mute girl talks: 
It is art's imperfection.
This impenetrable speech.
The motor car is truly launched: Four martyrs' heads Roll under the wheels.
Ah! a thousand flames, a fire, The light, a shadow! The sun is following me.
A feather gives to a hat A touch of lightness: The chimney smokes.


by Allen Ginsberg | |

Haiku (Never Published)

 Drinking my tea
Without sugar-
 No difference.
The sparrow shits upside down --ah! my brain & eggs Mayan head in a Pacific driftwood bole --Someday I'll live in N.
Y.
Looking over my shoulder my behind was covered with cherry blossoms.
Winter Haiku I didn't know the names of the flowers--now my garden is gone.
I slapped the mosquito and missed.
What made me do that? Reading haiku I am unhappy, longing for the Nameless.
A frog floating in the drugstore jar: summer rain on grey pavements.
(after Shiki) On the porch in my shorts; auto lights in the rain.
Another year has past-the world is no different.
The first thing I looked for in my old garden was The Cherry Tree.
My old desk: the first thing I looked for in my house.
My early journal: the first thing I found in my old desk.
My mother's ghost: the first thing I found in the living room.
I quit shaving but the eyes that glanced at me remained in the mirror.
The madman emerges from the movies: the street at lunchtime.
Cities of boys are in their graves, and in this town.
.
.
Lying on my side in the void: the breath in my nose.
On the fifteenth floor the dog chews a bone- Screech of taxicabs.
A hardon in New York, a boy in San Fransisco.
The moon over the roof, worms in the garden.
I rent this house.
[Haiku composed in the backyard cottage at 1624 Milvia Street, Berkeley 1955, while reading R.
H.
Blyth's 4 volumes, "Haiku.
"]


by Adrian Green | |

Luna Lake Haiku

 New moon on the lake.
Your voice and the nightingale serenade springtime.
Full moon on the lake.
Your voice and the waterbirds celebrate summer.
Old moon on the lake.
Owls hunting autumnal food - your voice still singing.


by Donald Hall | |

Distressed Haiku

 In a week or ten days
the snow and ice
will melt from Cemetery Road.
I'm coming! Don't move! Once again it is April.
Today is the day we would have been married twenty-six years.
I finished with April halfway through March.
You think that their dying is the worst thing that could happen.
Then they stay dead.
Will Hall ever write lines that do anything but whine and complain? In April the blue mountain revises from white to green.
The Boston Red Sox win a hundred straight games.
The mouse rips the throat of the lion and the dead return.


by Kobayashi Issa | |

That wren

 That wren--
looking here, looking there.
You lose something?


by Richard Brautigan | |

Haiku Ambulance

 A piece of green pepper
fell
off the wooden salad bowl:
so what?


by Yosa Buson | |

Variations on The short night

 Below are eleven Buson haiku
beginning with the phrase
'The short night--'


The short night--
on the hairy caterpillar
beads of dew.
The short night-- patrolmen washing in the river.
The short night-- bubbles of crab froth among the river reeds.
The short night-- a broom thrown away on the beach.
The short night-- the Oi River has sunk two feet.
The short night-- on the outskirts of the village a small shop opening.
The short night-- broken, in the shallows, a crescent moon.
The short night-- the peony has opened.
The short night-- waves beating in, an abandoned fire.
The short night-- near the pillow a screen turning silver.
The short night-- shallow footprints on the beach at Yui.
User Submitted "The short night--" Haiku Submit your own haiku beginning with the line "The short night--" and we'll post the best ones below! Just dash off an e-mail to: theshortnight@plagiarist.
com The short night- a watery moon stands alone over the hill Maggie The short night-- just as I'm falling asleep my wife's waking up Larry Bole


by Matsuo Basho | |

The old pond

 Following are several translations
of the 'Old Pond' poem, which may be
the most famous of all haiku:

Furuike ya 
kawazu tobikomu 
mizu no oto

 -- Basho



Literal Translation

Fu-ru (old) i-ke (pond) ya, 
ka-wa-zu (frog) to-bi-ko-mu (jumping into) 
mi-zu (water) no o-to (sound)






 The old pond--
a frog jumps in,
 sound of water.
Translated by Robert Hass Old pond.
.
.
a frog jumps in water's sound.
Translated by William J.
Higginson An old silent pond.
.
.
A frog jumps into the pond, splash! Silence again.
Translated by Harry Behn There is the old pond! Lo, into it jumps a frog: hark, water's music! Translated by John Bryan The silent old pond a mirror of ancient calm, a frog-leaps-in splash.
Translated by Dion O'Donnol old pond frog leaping splash Translated by Cid Corman Antic pond-- frantic frog jumps in-- gigantic sound.
Translated by Bernard Lionel Einbond MAFIA HIT MAN POET: NOTE FOUND PINNED TO LAPEL OF DROWNED VICTIM'S DOUBLE-BREASTED SUIT!!! 'Dere wasa dis frogg Gone jumpa offa da logg Now he inna bogg.
' -- Anonymous Translated by George M.
Young, Jr.
Old pond leap -- splash a frog.
Translated by Lucien Stryck The old pond, A frog jumps in:.
Plop! Translated by Allan Watts The old pond, yes, and A frog is jumping into The water, and splash.
Translated by G.
S.
Fraser


by Matsuo Basho | |

Four Haiku

 Spring:
A hill without a name
Veiled in morning mist.
The beginning of autumn: Sea and emerald paddy Both the same green.
The winds of autumn Blow: yet still green The chestnut husks.
A flash of lightning: Into the gloom Goes the heron's cry.


by Matsuo Basho | |

In the twilight rain

In the twilight rain
these brilliant-hued hibiscus . . .
A lovely sunset


by Matsuo Basho | |

From time to time

From time to time
The clouds give rest
To the moon-beholders.


by Matsuo Basho | by Matsuo Basho. You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/famous/poem/23473/In_the_cicadas_cry' st_title='In the cicada's cry'>|

In the cicada's cry

In the cicada's cry
No sign can foretell
How soon it must die. 


by Matsuo Basho | |

An old silent pond...

An old silent pond...
A frog jumps into the pond,
splash! Silence again.